FITZ -GREENE  HALLECK 
A  MEMORIAL 

F,S.  Cozzens 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


^^^^SKOSOSS  OP  SSSSSSSSESS?^ 


FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK.    A 
MEMORIAL 

Frederic  S.  Cozzens 


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UNIVERSITY  MICROFILMS,  INC. 

A  Subsidiary  of  Xerox  Corporation 
Ann  Arbor 


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FITZ-GREEtfE  HALLECK. 


A  MEMORIAL. 


FREDERIC  S.  COZZENS.. 


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NEW  YORK: 

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Os  41, 49, 90  Gran*  SC.  X.T. 


FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK 

A  MEMORIAL. 


MR.  DcYCKEfoc,  the  Chairman  of  the  Committee  to  which  I  hare  the 
honor  to  belong,  has  prepared  some  resolution*,  expressive  of  the  sin 
cere  grief  which  this  Society  feels  at  the  recent  decease  of  Frrz-G  RHLVE 
HALLCCK.  It  devolve*  upon  me,  in  accordance  with  a  time-honored 
custom,  to  introduce  them  with  a  brief  review  of  the  career  of  our  late 
illustrious  associate.  I  am  aware,  however,  of  an  increasing  hoarseness, 
which  will  prevent  mo  addressing  yon  in  person  ;  and  as  our  excellent 
librarian,  Mr.  MOOBE,  has,  at  my  solicitation,  promised  to  take  the  load 
off  my  shoulders,  I  am  only  too  happy  to  band  these  papers  to  him. 


Tins  is  A  NEW  YORK  HISTORICAL  SOCIETY.  It  is  a 
living  register  of  deeds  and  men.  From  its  accumula 
tions  of  the  records  of  the  past — of  the  records  of  our 
common  Country  in  general — we  torn  with  more  af 
fectionate  interest  to  those  themes  which  are  peculiar 
ly  local)  to  those  acts  which  have  added  a  lustre  to 
this  city,  to  those  actors  who  have  lived,  and  breath 
ed,  and  moved  among  us ;  who  have  formed  a  part 
of  our  crowded  streets,  and  our  busy  thoroughfares. 


4  FmGREKXE  JlAHJlCIC. 

If  Longfellow  should  die,  the  ntreeta  of  Boston 
would  be  draped  in  mourning !  But  although  we 
display  no  outward  signs  of  grief,  we  feel  not  less 
keenly,  that  there  is  a  vacant  space  among  us ;  that 
a  statue  has  fallen  from  its  familiar  pedestal ;  that  a 
spark  of  immortal  fire  has  !x;en  quenched  forever ; 
and  that  he  who  used  to  he,  peculiarly,  the  intellect 
ual  soul  and  centre  of  this  vast  metropolis,  now  lies 
silent,  in  a  narrow  grave,  at  Guilford ! 

A  brief  biographical  sketch,  collected  from  various 
sources,  may  l>e  not  uninteresting. 

Fitz-Grccne  llalleck  was  born  in  Guilford,  Con 
necticut,  July  3th,  1700.  On  his  mother'*  ride,  lie 
was  descended  from  the  famous  John  Eliot,  u  the 
Apostle  to  the  Indians,"  and  his*  father  filled  an  in 
considerable  position,  during  the  Revolutionary  war, 
under  Sir  Henry  Clinton.  "  My  father,"  said  llalleck 
to  me,  "  was  a  British  Commissary.  But  I  am  inclined 
to  believe  that  this  high-sounding  title  was  a  fiction. 
British  and  other  commissaries,  in  the  army,  usually 
accumulate  fortunes ;  but  as  my  father  made  nothing 
out  of  the  war,  I  think  he  must  have  been  a  tnthr. 
And  my  opinion  is,"  continued  he,  "  that  as  a  sutleq 
transacts  his  business  upon  his  own  capital,  and  a 
commissary  draws  his  funds  from  the  military  chest, 
that  the  chances  of  being  an  honest  man  are  in  favor 
offltetntkrl* 

In  1814  we  find  Mr.  llalleck  a  clerk  of  Jacob 
Barker.  The  late  Daniel  Embury,  formerly  Presi 
dent  of  the  Atlantic  Bank  of  Brooklyn,  at  that  time 
was  Mr.  Barker's  cashier.  He  always  spoke  of  llal 
leck  with  almost  boyish  affection.  "  When  I  found," 


paid  he,  u  that  Jacob  Barker's  affairs  were  in  such  a 
state  that  an  honest  cashier  conld  not  remain  with 
him,  I  spoke  to  Hal  leek  about  them,  for  I  had  deter 
mined  to  leave  his  office,  and  urged  him  to  do  BO  like 
wise.  But  Halleck  replied,  'Xo !  I  will  not  desert 
the  sinking  slip;  I  will  remain  at  my  post  When 
misfortune  comes,  that  is  the  very  time  to  stand  by 
one's  friends.'  And  so,"  said  Mr.  Embury,  tt  I  left 
the  office  of  Mr.  Barker,  and  entered  into  the  employ 
of  John  Jacob  Astor.  Some  years  after,  Halleck  fol 
lowed  me.  By-and-by  he  rose  to  V  Astor's  chief 
book-keeper  and  confidential  clerk." 

It  is  very  well  known  that  Mr.  Astor  left  Mr. 
Halleck  in  his  will,  when  tlie  latter  was  in  the  height 
of  his  fame,  and  pretty  well  advanced  in  years,  an  an 
nuity  of  two  hundred  dollars.  It  is  very  well  known, 
also,  that  Mr.  Win.  B.  Astor  added  to  this  a  gift  of 
ten  thousand  dollars.  It  was  the  first  gift  ever  given 
by  a  wealthy  man  to  a  poet,  in  this  country.  It  was 
certainly  noble  and  generous.  Opulence  often  pays 
thousands  of  dollars  for  a  picture,  to  secrete  in  a  pri 
vate  gallery  ;  but  the  greater  artist,  the  Poet,  whose 
works  ennoble  mankind,  is  too  often  forgotten. 

I  asked  Mr.  Embury,  one  day,  why  it  was  that 
John  Jacob  Astor  had  left  Halleck,  his  faithful  clerk, 
only  this  trifling  sum.  *4 1  think  I  can  explain  that,* 
he  said.  u  Halleck  often  used  to  joke  Mr.  Astor  about 
his  accumulating  income,  and  perhaps  rather  rashly 
said,  *  Mr.  Astor,  of  what  use  is  all  this  money  to  you  ? 
I  would  be  content  to  live  upon  a  coupls  of  hundreds 
a-year,  for  the  rest  of  my  life,  if  I  was  only  sure  of  it.' 
The  old  man  remembered  that,"  said  Mr.  Embury, 


$ 

uand  with  a  bitter  satire,  reminded  Halleck  of  it  in 


The  commercial  life  of  Halleck  is  interesting,  in 
somuch  that  it  exhibits  a  chivalric  sense  of  duty,  and 
a  noble  disinterestedness.  His  first  experience  in 
New  York  brought  him  in  contact  with  much  subtle 
trickery  and  artful  maneuvering ;  his  later  years  ex 
posed  him  to  all  the  allurements  which  the  accumu 
lation  of  vast  wealth,  under  his  eyes,  could  furnish. 
But  he  was  superior  to  either ;  and  could  alike  hon 
estly  stand  by  Jacob  Barker  amid  the  wreck  of  his 
financial  machinery,  and  indulge  in  quiet  Kin-asms 
on  John  Jacob  Astor  while  the  latter  was  building 
his  colossal  fortune. 

In  fa<;t,  ht  h'i'l  a  platform  of  hi*  own,  and  he 
tsto&l  itj>on  iff  Money,  whether  honestly  or  dis 
honestly  acquired,  had  no  part  in  his  aspirations. 
His  birth-gift  was  poetry.  He  was  a  poet  born, 
not  made  by  circumstances.  Not  that  ho  despised 
wealth,  not  that  he  despised  rank,  not  that  he  des 
pised  power. 

"No— a  born  poet ;— it  hi*  cradle-fire 
The  Mufc«  nurpHl  him— a*  their  bud  unblown, 

Aud  gare  him,  as  lib  mind  grew  tnjh  and  A^Vr, 
Their  ducal  Btrawbcrnr  leaf*  enwreathcd  renown." 

It  was  that  wreath  he  coveted.  He  wrought  for 
it  earnestly,  he  won  it  honestly,  but  in  his  sweet  hu 
mility  he  never  wore  it. 

One  of  the  greatest  charms  of  Halleck's  character 
was  his  innate  modesty.  lie  did  not  care  to  rush 
into  print  In  the  earlier  part  of  his  life,  his  poems 
were  published  anonymously.  Like  Irving,  and 


A  MEMORIAL.  7 

Drake,  and  Bryant,  with  a  true  gentlemanly  instinct, 
he  shrank  from  popular  applause.  But  when  the 
author  of  u  Fanny,*  and  the  co-author  of  the  u  Croak 
ers,"  could  no  longer  preserve  his  disguise ;  when  his 
old  publisher,  Coleman,  broke  the  seals  of  secresy, 
and  he  stood  revealed  ;  when  he  was  sought  after  by 
the  best  society  in  New  York,  (and  what  a  brilliant 
society  it  was  in  those  grand  old  days !)  when  he 
was  exposed  to  all  the  adulations  of  fashion,  wealth, 
and  intellect,  he  preserved  his  quiet  balance,  his 
modest,  gentlemanly  demeanor,  and  lived  and  moved 
an  example  worthy  of  imitation.  When  we  reflect 
that,  ut  this  time,  1  hillock  was  the  most  popular 
poet  in  the  country, — for  Drake  was  dead  and  Bryant 
scarcely  known, — and  that  no  other  American  poet 
could  be  called  his  rival,  we  may  well  admire  that 
unpretending  modesty  which  always  formed  the  chief 
charm  in  his  character.  Upon  one  occasion,  in  after- 
years,  when  he  was  invited  to  a  brilliant  party  in 
New  York,  he  declined  the  invitation,  and  said,  quiet-* 
ly,  to  a  friend,  "  I  always  avoided  notoriety  in  my 
earlier  days, — and  I  am  too  old  a  lion  now  to  shake 
my  mane  in  a  lady's  drawing-room." 

"While  I  have  made  the  endeavor  to  bring  before 
you  a  faint  sketch  of  the  character  of  the  man,  which 
you  have  done  me  the  honor  to  invite  me  to  elucidate, 
permit  me  to  give  a  glance  at  the  opposite  of  such  a^ 
poet,  and  show  you  a  Poet's  Critic. 

There  is  a  class  of  unfortunates  in  this  and  in  other 
literary  countries,  who,  although  blest  with  undoubted 
genius,  are  compelled  by  Fate  and  Publishers  to 
blossom  once  a  month.  They  are  known  by  Gods  and 


8  Fm-GREEys  HALLECK. 

Men  as  Magazine  critics.  They  are  the  Euclids  of 
imaginative  composition,  and  reduce  every  thing  in 
the  sphere  of  fancy  to  a  demonstration.  Twelve 
times  a  year  do  these  "inglorious  Miltons"  appear 
upon  the  surface  of  the  earth.  Twelve  times  a  year 
are  they  quietly  buried. 

As  time  rolls  on,  Posterity  rakes  among  the 
ashes  of  the  Past  for  some  live  coals  of  genius,  but 
it  never  disturbs  the  dust  of  critics.  A  magazine  a 
month  old  is  very  old  indeed.  It  is  true,  that  some 
undiscriminating  persons  invoke  the  aid  of  the  book 
binder,  and  preserve  these  volumes, — persons  with 
palatial  residences,  and  a  yawning  chaos  of  shelves  in 
that  part  of  the  mansion  which  the  architect  has  set 
apart  as — The  Library.  Its  lower  rounds  are  filled 
with  standard  works ;  and  then  the  Magazines,  in  rich 
bindings,  are  high  uplifted  above  the  topmost  round 
of  the  library-ladder.  There — in  dust  and  cobwebs 
— row  on  row — the  serried  volumes  stand !  never  to 
*be  disturbed — except  by  the  Auctioneer. 

Prominent  among  the  contributors  to  these  luckless 
volumes  are  the  literary  critics.  They  vainly  imagine 
that  they  have  been  hewing  their  way  to  the  fore 
most  rank  in  public  opinion.  15y  detracting  from 
the  reputation  of  those  who  have  earned  their  bitter 
laurels — amidst  toil,  and  poverty,  and  privation— they 
presume  that  the  path  to  that  glorious  Temple  is  open 
and  secure  to  them.  It  is  a  most  unfortunate  mis 
take.  The  true  path  for  an  American  author  to  take 
is  not  to  under-ratc  "  Fanny  *  or  the  "  Croaker?,"  not 
to  show  how  "  Alnwick  Castle  "  or  "Marco  Bozzaris n 
might  have  been  improved,  if  the  creator  of  these 


A  MEMORIAL.  9 

poems  bad  only  been  instructed  properly  in  metre 
by  the  modest  reviewer, — but  to  write  a  poem  equal 
to  any  of  them.  That  there  are  faults  in  these  compo 
sitions  may  be  true.  But  we  may  as  well  remember 
also,  that  although  a  thousand  nameless  architects 
have  written  essays  to  show  how  the  Leaning  Tower 
of  Pisa  should  have  l>ecn  built,  it  still  continues  to 
hold  its  reputation  as  one  of  the  Seven  Wonders  of 
the  world,  and  still  continue*  to  lean. 

Pardon  this  digression,  and  let  me  return  to  the 
direct  path. 

"  The  Evening  Twilight  of  the  Heart,"  an  exquisite 
poem,  was  published  in  the  Evening  Post,  in  Octo 
ber,  1818.  Bryant's  "  Thanatopsis"  preceded  this 
poem  two  years. 

These  we  may  call  the  corner-stones  of  American 
Poetry,  hewn  from  the  native  quarry. 

But  the  first  efforts  of  genius  do  not  always  invoke 
the  dear  delightful  responses  of  applauding  thou 
sands.  Those  who  toil  in  the  republic  of  letters 
often  waste  the  midnight  sweat  of  the  brow  in  vain ; 
at  least,  many  years  elapse  before  they  are  recog 
nized. 

Bryant's  " Thanatopsis,"  and  I falleck's  "Twilight 
of  the  Heart,"  fell  dead  upon  the  public  ear;  for  po 
etic  taste  had  as  yet  been  little  cultivated  in  our 
country,  forty  years  ago. 

It  is  true  that  Philip  Freneau,  that  brave  old  son 
of  New  York !  had  written  some  admirable  poems 
during  the  Revolutionary  war,  some  lines  of  which 
Byron,  Campbell,  and  Scott  did  not  hesitate  to 
appropriate. 


10  FmQRXEsrx  HALLECK. 

M  The  Boater  and  the  Deer,  *  shade," 

was  adopted  by  Campbell, 

••  She  w«lk*  the  water  8k«  ft  thing  of  Uf«," 

was  gathered  under  the  wing  of  Byron. 

And  Sir  Walter  Scott,  in  the  introduction  to  the 
Third  Canto  of  Marmion,  made  use  of  a  striking 
image  of  our  poet.  Scott's  lines  are : 

"When  PHI*,!*  harried  to  the  field 
And  snatched  the  fpcar—but  left  tb«  shield.* 

But  in  Freneau's  poem  on  the  battle  of  Eutair,  he 
says: 

"They  saw  tbeir  injured  country**  woe, 

The  flaming  tovn*,  the  wasted  fields,— 
They  rushed  to  meet  th*  insulting  foe. 
They  took  the  «ptar— but  left  the  shield." 

It  is  pleasing  to  recall  these  few  lines  of  an  ancient 
Knickerbocker  poet.  They  are  perhaps  the  only  lines 
that  were  ever  stolen  in  those  days  by  eminent  Brit 
ish  authors,  from  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

But  the  ode  "To  Ennui,"  published  in  the  N.  Y. 
Evening  Post,  March  10th,  1810,  and  written  by 
another  Knickerbocker  poet,  Dr.  Joseph  Hodman 
Drake,  and  signed  u  Croaker,"  was  the  spark  that 
first  fired  the  poetic  train  in  America.  This  was 
followed  the  next  day  by  another  playful  strain  from 
the  same  pen,  entitled  "  On  prettiiting  the  Freedom 
of  tie  City  in  a  Gold  Box  to  a  great  General?  the 
great  General  being  Andrew  Jackson,  afterwards 
President  of  the  United  States,  as  some  of  the  oldest 
members  of  the  Historical  Society  may  remember. 
On  the  very  next  day  appeared  the  "  Secret  Jfine" 


A  MEMORIAL.  11 

alluding  to  the  toast  of  General  Jackson  at  the  Tain- 
many  Dinner ;  on  the  next  day  appeared  the  tt  Epittle 
to  Mr.  Potter,  tfo  Vtntriloquitt ;  "  on  the  next  day, 
"  T/te  Lattery  War?  all  written  by  Dr.  Drake ;  and 
on  the  same  day  (the  15th  of  ^larch),  Halleck's  Ad 
dress  to  Mr.  Simpson,  then  manager  of  the  old  Park 
Theatre,  signed  Croaker,  jr.,  and  on  the  day  after  that, 
Drake's  invitation  to  his  unknown  rival,  proposing 
to  make  a  pcetical  firm,  as  appears  by  the  well- 
known  verses : 

TO  CROAKER,  JR. 

M  Tour  Land,  in j  dear  Junior !  we're  all  in  a  flame 

To  KM?  a  few  more  of  your  flashes ! 
The  Croaken  for  ever !  I'm  proud  of  the  name,— 
But  brother,  I  fear,  though  our  cause  i*  the  nine, 
We  altall  quarrel  like  ttrutus  and  Cataiu*. 

"  But  why  should  we  do  eo !  'Us  false  what  they  teO, 

That  poets  ran  never  be  cronies ; 
Vnbuckle  your  harness,  in  peace  let  us  dwell, 
Our  goose-quilts  will  canter  together  as  well 
As  a  pair  oi  Prime's  mouse-colored  ponies. 

•*  Once  blended  in  M  .int.  well  make  our  appeal, 

And  by  law  be  incorporate  too ; 
Apply  for  a  charter  in  crackers  to  deal, 
A  fly-flapper  rampant  shall  fhine  on  our  seal, 

And  the  firm  shall  be  Croaker  &  Co. 

•  Fun !  prosper  the  Union— smile,  Fate,  on  iU  birth; 

Miss  Atropoc,  shut  up  your  scbeors; 
Together  well  range  through  the  regions  of  mirth, 
A  pair  of  bright  Gemini,  dropt  on  the  earth, 

The  Castor  and  Pollux  of  quixze.-a." 

IB  this  local  ?  The  only  allusion  in  it  to  New  York, 
is  Prime's  mouse-colored  ponies.  But  the  head  of 
the  firm  of  Prime,  Ward  «fc  King,  famous  bankers  in 


12  FmGRERy*  HALI.BCK. 

those  days,  would  Lave  no  objection  for  his  name  to 
be  sent  down  to  posterity  in  a  note,  in  the  appendix 
to  this  moat  musical  poem. 

As  I  have  said  before,  the  first  Croaker  paper  was 
published  in  the  Evening  Post,  MarchHtOtb, 1S19^__ 
The  epistle  rt  To  Croaker,  Junior,'1  saw  the  light  on 
the  1  Oth  of  the  same  month.  But  besides  these  daily 
contributions  to  the  Post,  Drake  had  written  a  poem, 
and  Hallcck  had  written  another,  for  the  Ifationttl 
A<h'ocatc,  a  newspaper  edited  by  Major  Noah,  and 
both  poems  were  published  within  the  time  in 
which  the  Croakers  appeared  in  the  Post.  I  mean 
to  say,  that  in  six  days  Ilalleck  aud  Drake  had 
written  ten  poems ;  and  in  those  six  days  they  had 
made  the  most  conspicuous  mark  in  American  poetry. 

AVhen  we  examine  these  light  satires,  we  find 
them  by  no  means  trilling.  They  are  like  the 
Italian  chain-mail,  delicate  in  fabric,  but  imper 
vious  to  assault.  The  versification  is  as  various  as  it 
is  melodious.  They  are  still  read  with  delight,  and 
I  may  add,  that  their  spirit,  their  wit,  their  fancy, 
their  clan,  has  not  been  equalled  in  this  country. 

Edgar  A.  Poe,  whose  versification  has  placed  him 
somewhere  in  the  ranks  of  poets,  says,  "  that  the  po 
litical  and  personal  features  of  these  jciu*-<re«j/rit 
gave  them  a  consequence  to  which  they  arc  enti 
tled  on  no  other  account."  Other  critics  of  less 
note  urge,  that,  as  they  are  merely  local  poems, 
they  have  lived  their  little  life,  and  will  be  quietly 
forgotten,  when  the  actors  whose  deeds  they  com 
memorate  have  passed  from  the  scene.  But  there 
are  others  who  do  not  agree  with  Mr.  Poe  and 


A  MEMORIAL*  13 

his  followers.  They  think  that,  with  age,  the  Croak 
ers  will  acquire  a  greater  value, — that  a  hundred 
years  hence  they  will  be  more  appreciated  than  they 
are  now. 

In  regard  to  the  oft-repeated  saying  that  these 
are  only  local  satires,  I  may  observe,  that  all  satire, 
to  be  effective,  must  be  directed  at  individuals,  and 
individuals  in  particular  localities.  There  are  scores 
of  satires  launched  against  abstractions, — an  Ode  to 
Avarice  here,  a  satire  against  Ambition  there,  and  so 
forth.  But  Juiiius,  and  Swift,  and  Butler,  and  Dryden, 
Pope  and  Burns,  and  Byron  and  Churchill,  selected 
their  victims  from  living  men,  and  preserved  their 
otherwise  anonymous  names  in  an  immortality  of  dam 
nation. 

It  is  the  divine    mission    of  the  poet  to  give 

" to  airy  nothing* 

A,  lofal  habitation  and  a  nam«.w 

The  solitary  traveller  upon  the  frontiers  of  civiliza 
tion, — in  Montana,  or  Colorado, — approaches  a  log- 
cabin  ;  and  from  the  sound  of  voices  within  it,  he 
learns,  perhaps  for  the  first  time,  that  there  is  a 
river  in  Scotland  called  the  "  Boon,"  which  he  never 
would  have  known,  if  Burns  had  not  written  of 
its  bonny  banks  and  braes.  I  wish  we  had  some 
local  poets, — that  could  tell  us  of  Powles'  Hook,  and 
Washington  Heights,  and  Stony  Point,  and  all  the 
glorious  points  of  historical  interest  on  the  Hudson. 

44  Vainly  had  Concord  mourned  Its  early  dead. 
Vainly  bad  Charlettown  burned  and  Warren  bled. 
Or  Guilford**  loss  or  Trenton'*  capture  been ; 
EuUw'«  red  flood ;  or  Monmouth'*  trampled  green : 


14  FmGREmm  HALLECK. 

Had  the  prood  Hudson  from  her  errfe  port* 
Quenched  the  lone  splendor  of  her  beacon  torch, 
Yielded  the  trust  her  sister  States  consigned, 
And  lost,  «Uh  Arnold,  hope  for  human  kind.** 

The  number  of  Croaker  poems  collected  and  pub* 
lished  by  the  Bradford  Club  is  fifty.  Some  of  them 
did  not  appear  with  the  original  papers,  but  have 
been  interpolated  in  this  edition. 

Mr.  Ilalleck  told  me,  that  after  Drake's  proposal 
to  make  a  poetical  firm,  many  of  the  Croaker  pa 
pers  were  written  in  this  wise,  lie,  or  Drake,  would 
furnish  a  draft  of  the  poem,  and  that  one  or  the 
other  would  suggest  any  alteration  or  enlargement  of 
the  idea;  a  closer  clipping  of  the  wings  of  fancy  ;  a 
little  epigrammatic  spur  upon  the  heel  of  a  line. 

I  doubt  very  much  whether  I  have  a  right  to  dis 
close  the  method  by  which  Poets  work  in  their  work 
shops,  but  as  I  am  only  repeating  Halleck's  ideas,  I 
hold  it  to  be  no  base  betrayal  of  the  craft.  To  show 
how  delightful  these  joint  labors  were,  to  both  these 
illustrious  men,  Ilalleck  told  me  that,  upon  one  oc 
casion,  Drake,  after  writing  sr. me  stanzas  and  getting 
the  ;»roof  from  the  printer,  laid  his  cheek  down 
upon  the  lines  he  had  written,  and  looking  at  1m  fel 
low-poet,  with  beaming  eyes,  said,  "  O,  Ilalleck,  isn't 
this  happiness ! " 

Mr.  Ilalkek  rarely  spoke  of  his  own  productions 
indeed,  he  seemed  to  think  very  lightly  of  them. 
Yet  he  had  an  unbounded  admiration  for  Drake. 
Drake,  on  the  other  hand,  did  not  think  his  own 
poems  worth  publishing  or  acknowledging.  One  day, 
on  my  speaking  of  "  Fanny  "  to  Mr.  Ilalleck,  he  said, 
"  Ah,  I  do  not  pride  myself  upon  any  thing  in  it  except 


15 

the  quotation.  You  know  the  snbject  is  not  elevated. 
The  story  of  a  bankrupt,  retail  dry-goods  merchant 
is  not  a  poetical  theme.  But  the  motto  is  the  very 
opposite  of  snch  a  story,  and  therein  lies  the  wit. 


Of  tone  gaj  creatures  of  the  element*, 
That  In  the  colon  of  the  rainbow  lire, 
Ami  play  in  the  plighted  clouds. 


Notwithstanding  Hallcck's  reticence  in  regard  to 
his  own  poems,  he  always  delighted  to  talk  of  the 
poetry  of  other  authors.  He  had  committed  to  mem 
ory  many  of  Campbell's  poems,  and  his  comments 
upon  certain  passages  that  he  quoted  were  wonder 
fully  acute  and  elucidative.  Hohenlinden  vn*  one  of 
his  favorites. 

M  *  On  Linden,  when  the  ran  was  low, 
All  Uoodleu  lay  the  untrodden  snow.' 

a  There,"  he  would  say,  "I  defy  any  painter  to  paint 
that  landscape  !  The  poet  in  one  word,  Uoodlw^ 
anticipates  the  coming  struggle,  the  clash  of  men  and 
arms,  the  blood-stained  field  that  is  to  be,  the  tram 
pled  snow,—  and  in  his  prophetic  vision  he  paints  it  all 
in  a  word. 

"  And  now  see  how  the  armies  are  marshalled  !  — 
Not  by  generals  and  adjutants,  but  by  a  supernatural 
drum  at  midnight!  An  inferior  poet  would  have  put 
all  the  officers  in,  —  pioneers  and  all  —  aids  and  order 
lies,  to  summon  the  armies  to  battle,  —  but  Campbell 
only  uses  a  drum  ! 

-  *  Hut  Mudon  taw  another  tight, 

When  the  dna*  beat  at  dead  of  night, 
Commanding  frt*  ofdemA  to  liyki 
The  darkness  of  the  scenery  ! 


16  FmGRBENE  HALLECK. 

44  And  Low  are  these  armies  brought  into  line  ? 
By  officers  of  squadrons  or  battalions  I  No !  but  by 
other,  supernatural  agents — 

*  By  torth  and  tntmptt,  tut  arrayed. 
Each  horseman  drew  hi*  battle-blade.' 

By  the  drum,  by  torch,  and  by  tnnnpet,  the  deadly 
conflict  is  invoked,  and  the  jfri*  of  death  light  up  the 
vivid  scenery." 

His  admiration  of  Wordsworth  was  very  great. 
In  a  letter  written  some  years  ago,  he  says,  "  I  am 
delighted  to  agree  with  you  in  your  estimation  of 
Wordsworth's  poetry.  His  line, 

*  lligh  in  the  brcntJ.hu  hall  the  minstrel  tate," 

is  the  perfection  of  art,  or  rather  of  the  attribute." 

Of  Jane  Ingclow  he  says,  in  another  letter,  "She 
has  the  faculty  divine,  and  when  she  ceases  to  imitate 
Tennyson,  will  be  worth  her  weight  in  gold.  At 
present  her  lines  are  beautiful  perplexities,  and  her 
philosophy  is  like  the  Irishman's  pony,  hard  to  catch, 
and  worih  little  when  you  have  caught  him."  Of 
Sydney  Smith  lie  said,  "His  style  is  so  jxrfect  that  you 
cannot  substitute  a  word  in  place  of  one  of  his  own, 
without  damaging  the  force  of  the  sentence."  His  ad 
miration  of  Bryant  was  not  less  sincere.  At  the  time 
when  he  was  prostrated  by  sickness  at  Bixby's  Hotel,  * 
in  18GO,  he  repeated  some  lines  of  Bryant'*,  just  pub 
lished  in  Putnam's  Magazine,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
and  said,  "There,  now,  there  is  nothing  better  in  the 
whole  range  of  poetry  than  that! "  At.  another  time, 
upon  mentioning  Stratford-upon-Avon  to  him,  ho 
threw  up  his  hands  in  admiration,  "Stratford!"  he  s 


A  MEMORIAL.  17 

paid—-"  Did  you  see  Stratford  ?  the  loveliest  spot  of 
English  scenery!  It  is  the  very  place,  in  all  England, 
where  Shakespeare  should  lie.  Was  he  not  fortunate, 
to  have  such  a  place  to  repose  in?  What  is  a  monu 
ment  in  Westminster  Abbey  compared  with  that  I 
It  is  the  very  place  for  a  poet  to  take  his  last  rest. 
Shakespeare's  grave,  and  the  account  of  the  burial  of 
Torn  Campbell,  touched  me  more  than  any  thing  else 
in  England." 

lie  always  expressed  a  great  admiration  for  Char 
lotte  Bronte.  Upon  my  telling  him,  some  years  ago, 
that  I  had  not  read  Jane  Eyre,  he  said,  a  Thank  God, 
I  have  got  that  advantage.**  In  another  letter  he 
says,  **  Have  you  read  the  'Bucktail  Bards,'  a  very 
able  and  amusing  work  that  appeared  in  1810  or  '20  ? 
If  not,  you  will  thank  me  for  referring  you  to  it,  as  a 
treasure  of  a  book.  Our  friend  Mr.  Verplanck  knows 
more  about  its  author  or  authors  than  I  do.  (I  may 
remark,  enjxitxant,  that  Mr.  Verplanck  and  Judge 
Duer  were  the  reputed  authors  of  this  rare  book).  I 
wish  particularly  to  call  your  attention  to  an  imita 
tion  of  Coleridge  contained  in  it — one  of  the  best 
things,  in  its  way,  ever  printed."  In  another  letter, 
speaking  of  Mr.  Verplanck,  he  says, "  I  wish  you  would 
prevail  upon  him  to  gather  together  the  scattered- 
abroad  children  of  bis  pen.  As  American  specimens 
of  English  literature,  his  writings  are  proof  that  the 
waters  of  the  well  of  English  undefiled,  can  be  dnmk 
here  in  all  their  purity."  He  paid  a  very  high  compli 
ment  to  the  young  author  of  Baby  Bell.  He  says  in  a 
note  to  me,  "  I  am  happy  to  agree  with  you  in  your  esti 
mate  of  the  young  poet  He  is  much  more  than  promb- 


18  Fm-GREEyx  HALLECK. 


ing,  and  I  hope  you  will  persuade  him  to  work  on." 
lie  speaks  of  Tennyson's  "  Maud  "  in  another  part  of 
tlie  same  letter  : 

"  I  find  much  in  '  Maud  '  to  admire,  both  in  the  old 
and  the  ne\v  sense  of  the  word,  and  love  and  cherish. 
Bat  it  must  be  owned  that  many  of  the  lines  are  with 
out  Itoofc  or  fait,  and  many  of  the  ideas  would  pass 
for  nonsense  at  every  toll-gate  in  criticism.  Still, 
there  is  so  much  peculiarly  Tennyson's  own  in  it, 
in  form  and  fancy,  that  we  willingly  tramp  over  its 
long  beach  of  sand  to  gather  his  grains  of  gold,  and 
shells  and  pebbles  of  beauty.  For  instance, 

4  —  the  cobweb  woven  aero**  the  caution**  throat, 
Shall  shake  iU  threadtd  ttart  in  the  wind  uo  more.* 

Threaded  tears  !  How  true  and  Tennysoniau  !  "  Of 
Burns  he  said,  "There  was  a  speech  made  at  the 
Burns  festival,  in  which  the  speaker  called  Burns  a 
man  of  the  million.  Xow  the  fact  is,  Bums  was  not 
a  man  of  ///>  million,  but  a  man  of  a  million,  and  in 
this  case  the  indefinite  article  is  of  greater  value  than 
the  definite.9* 

Upon  the  same  occasion  he  referred  to  one  or  two 
luckless  orators,  who,  in  attempting  to  eulogize  a  man 
;  whose  genius  they  did  not  comprehend,  fell  into  some 
ludicrous  mistakes.  In  alluding  to  this  he  said,  "Poor 
Burns  !  he  belonged  to  the  militia,  and  his  last  dying 
request  was,  4  Don't  let  the  awkward  squad  fire  over 
my  grave.'  The  other  night,  at  that  dinner,  the  awk 
ward  squad  were  firing  away  over  his  gravo  just  as 
hard  as  ever."  In  his  opinion,  Faulconbridge  in  King 
John  was  Shakespeare's  greatest  creation  —  the  most 


A  IfKXORIAL.  19 

| 

truthful,  ehivalric,  and  original.  Upon  one  occasion 
Halleck  told  me  that  he  had  not  received  over  a 
thousand  dollars  in  all  his  life,  for  all  his  writings. 
This  was  before  he  had  received  the  handsome  sum  of 
five  hundred  dollars  from  Mr.  Bonner,  of  the  "Ledg 
er,"  for  Young  America.  "  My  first  publisher  failed," 
said  he,  **  and  this  deterred  me  from  venturing  upon  a 
literary  life,  and  placed  me  in  a  counting-room.'" 

He  had  a  qm*i  admiration  for  lecturers.  "  I  was  in 
New  Haven  the  other  day,r  Halleck  said,  lifting  his 
hat  with  that  deferential  air  which  always  made  a 
point  in  his  discourses,  "  I  was  in  New  Haven,  and  you 
know  that  New  Haven  is  to  Connecticut,  what  Bos 
ton  is  to  Massachusetts — the  intellectual  centre  of  the 
State.  The  ladies  of  New  H.iven  are  highly  educated, 
literary  women, — and  as  charming  as  any  ladies  can 
IKJ  anywhere.  Well,  one  of  these  charming  ladies 
said  to  me,  'Oh,  Mr.  Halleck !  you  should  have  been 
here  a  few  evenings  ago !  We  had  such  a  delightful 
time!  Mr.  Curtis  was  here,  and  he  gave  us  a  lecture 
upon  Sydney  Smith.  It  was  an  evening  to  be  re 
membered — a  perfect  feast  of  good  things,  and  we 
listened  to  every  word  that  dropped  from  his  lips  as 
if  they  were  perfect  pearls.'"  And  here  Halleck,  lift 
ing  his  hat,  as  if  he  were  addressing  the  lady  in 
question,  said,  "  Curtis  is  a  very  promising,  good  fel 
low  ;  perhaps  sometime  hereafter  he  may  make  his 
mark;  but  pray  tell  me,  which  Sydney  Smith  was 
the  subject  of  the  lecture?-  Was  it  the  hero  of  St. 
Jean  d*  Acre,  or  the  eminent  clergyman  of  the  Edin 
burgh  Review,  the  Dean  of  St.  Paul'*,  and  the  wit, 
whose  writings  are  so  celebrated  ?  Upon  which,"  said 


20  Fm-GRERSB  JlAU.KCK. 

Halleck,  with  that  familiar  roll  of  the  Bat,  "the  lady 
hesitated,  dropped  her  eyca,  and  replied,  *  Mr.  llalleck, 
I  do  not  know  which  of  them  it  wan,  but  I  know  it 
was  one  of  tit  w?  And  so,"  said  Jlalleck,  u  I  took  some 
pains  to  inquire,  and  I  found  out  that  the  lecture  was 
not  about  either  of  the  Sydney  Smiths,  but  a  lecture 
on  Sir  Philip  Sydney." 

Halleck's  admiration  of  the  genius  of  Byron  was 
such  as  only  a  poet  can  appreciate^  "  You  know,"  said 
he,  u  that  Shakespeare  has  said,  in  King  John, 

*  To  pild  refined  jrold,  to  paint  th«  lilt. 
To  Oi row  a  iH-rfumc  on  the  violet. 
To  smooth  the  ice,  or  add  another  huo 
I'uto  the  rniiilio«,c>r  »'uh  taper-light 
To  xcck  the  bcauteou*  «*;  »•  of  Hcarcn  to  jraruUh, 
I*  wasteful  and  ridiculous  CXCVM  ;* 

but  Byron  has  gilt  refined  gold  and  added  a  perfume 
to  the  violet ;  he  has  thrown  a  charm  over  the  sculp 
tures  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome :  in  the  dying 
gladiator,  he  recalls  the  'bought*  of  'his  young 
barbarians  there  at  play  upon  the  banks  of  the  fur-oft* 
Danube;'  and  again,  too,  'the  goddess  lives  in  stone;* 
what  a  line  that  is !  and  over  all  the  structures  on 
the  castellated  Rhine,  over  Italy,  Spain,  and  ancient 
and  modern  Europe,  he  has  added  a  charm  to  art, 
and  thrown  a  perfume  on  the  violets  of  history,  with 
out  *  wasteful  or  ridiculous  excess.'  When  you  go 
to  Rome,  when  you  travel  up  the  Rhine,  take  Childe 
Ilarold  with  you." 

If  Halleck  did  not  have  a  great  admiration  of 
publishers  and  booksellers,  perhap*  it  sprung  from 
the  tuition  of  his  commercial  life.  lie  said  to  me  one 
day,  u  The  best  part  of  my  life  was  spent  in  a  count- 


21 

ing-room.  I  know  what '  account-sales '  means*  and  I 
never  could  get  an  *  account-sales'  from  my  publishers.* 

Upon  one  occasion,  when  I  met  him  in  the 
magnificent  bookstore  of  one  of  the  prominent  pub 
lishers,  and  the  principal  of  the  firm  was  present,  he 
said,  with  that  familiar  lifting  of  the  hat,  after  the 
few  preliminary  remarks, — "By  the  way, — do  you 
remember  the  story  of  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  dining 
falrind  the  #cr€tii?  It  is  related  that  Dr.  Johnson 
was  invited  by  his  publisher  to  diue  with  him,  at  the 
great  table,  when  all  the  big  wigs  were  to  lx»  present. 
But  Dr.  Johnson  declined,  und  took  his  dinner  in 
quiet,  behind  a  screen.  The  common  story  is,  that 
Johnson  excused  himself,  because  his  clothes  were 
too  shabby  to  appear  before  such  high  company. 
That  is  a  historical  mistake;  Dr.  Johnson,  by  his 
learning,  by  his  genius,  by  his  intellectual  birth-gift, 
was  a  gentleman ;  and  as  a  gentleman,  he  would  not 
dine  with  a  publisher!" 

"When  he  was  sitting  to  Elliott  for  his  portrait, 
the  latter  said  to  him,  "Mr.  Ilalleek,  when  you  were 
in  England,  you  no  doubt  saw  some  of  the  eminent 
poets  whom  you  admire  so  much, — how  did  you  like 
Wordsworth 2"  "I  did  not  see  him,"  was  the  reply. 
44  Well,  of  course  you  saw  your  favorite  Campbell  ? " 
a  No,  I  did  not  see  Campbell."  u  Indeed  !  but  you  saw- 
Tom  Moore  I "  "  No,  I  did  not  see  any  of  them.  In 
fact,  I  was  like  Scott's  stupid  boy.  lie  went  to  his 
father  and  said,  'Father,  I  would  like  to  travel  through 
Europe  to  see  the  world,  and  I  want  you  to  supply 
me  with  the  necessary  funds  for  the  purpose.'  Upon 
which  his  father  replied,  *  What  you  desire  is  very 


22  Fm-OnKEys  HALLECK. 

praiseworthy,  and  a  creditable  ambition  worthy  of  a 
young  man,  and  I  would  furnish  you  tbe  means,  did  I 
not  think  your  desire  to  see  the  world  is  not  so  great 
as  my  disinclination  to  have  tie  world  see  you.1  I 
went,"  said  Ilalleck, u  to  see  the  world,— not  to  let  the 
world  see  me/*  (It  must  be  remembered  that  Ilalleck 
visited  Europe  in  182 ft,  before  he  was  generally 
known  as  a  writer.)  Then  he  added,  "  If  I  went 
abroad  now,  I  would  have  different  ideas.  If  those 
great  poets  were  living,  I  should  like  to  sec  them  all.'* 

When  he  heard  that  Browning,  the  poet,  was 
married  to  Miss  Elizabeth  Barrett,  he  said,  "  Ah,  I  am 
glad  of  it — they  will  be  able  to  understand  each 
other." 

lie  told  an  anecdote  of  Tom  Moore  and  a  Yankee 
lx>atman,  one  day,  in  illustration  of  a  poet's  fume  : 

Where'er  beneath  the  sk  j  of  Heaven, 

The  bird*  of  fame  have  flown. 

It  seems  the  author  of  the  tt  Melodic*/*  during  a 
visit  to  America,  had  hired  a  boatman  to  convey  him 
aero**  Lake  Ontario,  from  Lewisburg  to  Toronto. 
When  they  reached  the  latter  place,  Moore  pulled  out 
his  purse  to  pay  the  fare,  when  the  boatman,  laying 
his  hand  upon  the  poet's  wrist,  said,  u  Not  a  cent  from 
you,  Tom  Moore ! "  "  Why,**'  said  Moore,  surprised, 
u how  did  you  know  my  name?"  "Oh!"  said  the 
boatman,  UI  read  it  on  your  trunk;  and  me,  and  my 
wife,  and  my  children,  all  know  your  Melodies  by 
heart,  and  we  sing  'em  too,  and  do  you  think  I'd  take 
a  cent  from  you,  Toin  Moore  I  **  "It  was  the  first  time 
in  my  life,"  said  Moore, "  that  I  ever  felt  the  fuluess  of 


A  MEMORIAL.  23 

fame;  it  wan  the  greatest  compliment  ever  paid  me 
in  my  life !" 

There  is  DO  book  like  the  Old  Testament  for 
poetry.  "Study  th«  ancient  Hebrew," lie  wculd  say, 
tt  These  be  thy  Gods,  O  Israel ! w 

He  was  annoyed  at  carping  critics,  who  found 
fault  with  Irving'*  Knickerbocker's  History  of  New 
York.  4t  There  was  no  lxx)k  like  it ;  it  was  the  only 
original  book  of  the  kind.  A  travestie  of  history !  a 
travestie  of  what  history!  It  is  original,  and  full  of 
Irving's  genius.  Historians  are  great  pilferers  from 
one  another.  A  short  time  ago,  I  read  a  history  of 
the  siege  of  Quebec,  in  which  the  author  stated  that 
during  the  siege  they  drew  the  cannon  on  a  *&</,  and 
a  short  time  after,  I  read  a  description  of  the  same 
event  by  another  historian,  which  is  word  for  word 
like  the  other  one,  except  that  he  says  they  drew  the 
cannon  on  a  dulye.  Now,  there  is  history  for  you  I 
Byron  has  given  a  good  description  of  a  historian. 
He  says  that  Mitford  is  just  what  a  historian  ought  ta 
be.  He  is  full  of  wrath  and  partiality ! M 

When  lie  liked  a  poem  lie  would  copy  it  off,  and 
get  it  by  heart,  He  once  gave  mo  a  JKKJIII,  "  The- 
Death  of  Jacob,"  an  Oxford  prize  poem,  in  seventy- 
seven  stanzas*,  of  four  lines  each,  with  notes,  which  he 
had  copied  from  LittelFs  Living  Age.  He  told  me  once^ 
that  he  never  put  pen  to  paper  until  he  had  finished 
the  verse.  lie  always  composed  while  walking, 
roaming  about  the  streets  of  New  York,  generally  at 
night 

While  Hicks  was  painting  his  portrait,  he  saiil,."  I 
see  he  has  caught  that  peculiar  expression  of  my 


24  Fm-GREXXB  HALLKCK. 

month,  which  some  of  my  friends  9217  is  like  Voltaire  a, 
half  smile,  half  sneer." 

In  many  a  past  lionr  of  uninterrupted  intercourse 
with  him,  he  never  spoke  of  his  own  writing?,  nor  al- 
1'idcd  to  them.  If  the  subject  wa*  introduced,  he 
managed  to  turn  the  conversation  to  some  other  topic. 

I  shall  not  venture  upon  a  review  of  his  writings, 
but  will  content  myself  with  alluding  to  some  of  the 
opinions  of  his  contemporaries  as  to  his  literary  merits. 
James  Fenimore  Cooper  called  him  u  the  admirable 
Cioaker,"  and  both  he  and  Washington  Irving  always 
spoke  of  him  in  warm  terras  of  admiration.  Perhaps 
the  most  gratifying  tribute  paid  to  him  was  by  Mr. 
Bryant,  many  years  ago,  in  the  New  York  Mirror, 
from  which  I  beg  leave  to  quote  a  few. lines  : 

"  His  poetry,  whether  serious  or  sprightly,  is  re 
markable  for  the  melody  of  its  numbers.  It  is  not 
the  melody  of  monotonous  and  strictly  regular  meas 
urement.  His  verse  is  constructed  to  please  an  ear 
naturally  fine,  and  accustomed  to  a  range  of  metrical 
modulation.11 

Edgar  A.  Poe,  in  rather  a  harsh  criticism  upon 
his  writings,  says :  "  Personally,  he  is  a  man  to  l>e 
admired,  respected,  but  more  especially  beloved. 
His  address  has  nil  the  captivating  lonJioinmie  which 
is  the  leading  feature  of  his  poetry,  and,  indeed,  of 
his  whole  moral  nature.  "With  his  friends  he  is  all 
ardor,  enthusiasm,  and  cordiality ;  but  to  the  world  at  • 
large  he  is  reserved,  shunning  society,  into  which  he 
is  seduced  only  with  difficulty,  and  upon  rare  occa- 
ns." 

Miss  Mitford,  in  her  Recollections  of  a  Literary  Life, 


A  MEMORIAL.  25 

pays  him  a  very  high  compliment,  and  quotes  his 
"  Young  Thoughts  have  Music  in  them,"  from  Fanny, 
and  his  lines  to  Drake. 

Samncl  Rogers,  writing  to  Irving,  in  1837,  says: 
44  With  Mr.  IlalleckV  Poems  I  was  already  acquaint 
ed,  particularly  with  the  first  two  in  the  volume,  and 
I  cannot  say  how  much  J  admired  them  always. 
They  are  better  than  any  thing  we  can  do,  just  now, 
on  our  side  the  Atlantic.  I  hope  he  will  not  be  idle, 
but  continue  long  to  delight  us.  "When  he  comes 
here  ngain,  h.c  must  not  content  himself  with  looking 
on  the  outside  of  my  house,  as  I  am  told  he  did  once, 
but  knock  and  ring,  and  ask  for  me,  as  for  an  old  ac 
quaintance.  I  should  say,  indeed,  if  I  am  here  to  be 
found ;  for  if  he  or  you,  my  dear  friend,  delay  your 
coming  much  longer,  I  shall  have  no  hope  of  seeing 
cither  of  you  on  this  side  the  grave." 

Rogers  always  spoke  of  Ilalleck,  whenever  his 
name  was  mentioned,  in  terms  of  highest  praise.  In 
the  Messrs.  Duyckinek's  Cyclopaedia  of  American  Lit 
erature,  there  is  a  fine  appreciative  notice  of  him, 
which  I  would  gladly  quote  if  time  would  permit;  and 
the  article  contributed  by  Mr.  James  Lawson,  of  this 
city,  to  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger,  November 
2.5th,  1843,  although  written  with  great  cordiality, 
does  not  award  to  Mr.  Ilalleck  as  high  a  position  as 
he  deserves.  It  is  not  assuming  too  much  to  say,  that 
Ilalleck,  in  his  line,  has  not  been  approached  yet  by 
any  one  in  this  country,  and  that  his  line  is  a  very 
noble  one  indeed. 

There  is  one  error  in  regard  to  Fanny,  which 
should  be  corrected.  It  is  generally  said  of  it,  that  it 


26  FlTZ-GnEBXR  IlALLECK. 

is  an  imitation  of  Don  Joan.  Now,  if  yon  tarn  to 
Murray's  edition  of  Byron's  works,  yon  will  find  that 
the  first  part  of  Don  Juan  was  published  in  London 
in  1819,  and  if  you  turn  to  the  edition  of  "Fanny," 
printed  in  1839,  you  will  see  that  it  is  reprinted  from 
the  edition  of  1821,  which  had  been  enlarged  and  re 
printed  from  the  original  edition  of  1819.  So  that 
u  Fanny"  was  published  in  the  same  year  with  Don 
Juan,  and,  of  course,  could  not  Le  an  imitation.  In 
fact,  Mr.  Ilaileck  told  me  that  "  Fanny "  was  pub 
lished  before  Don  Juan  had  crossed  the  Atlantic,  aud 
that  he  had  adopted  the  versification  of  Beppo,  one 
of  Byron's  miuor  poems.  But  the  story  of  Beppo  is 
entirely  different  from  either  Fanny  or  Don  Juan. 

The  last  effort  of  Ilulleck  is,  I  believe,  a  little  epi 
grammatic  quatrain,  which  he  handed  me  one  day. 
It  was  written  in  a  lady's  album : 

•*  AH  honor  to  woman,  tb«  tweet-heart,  the  wife, 

The  delight  of  the  firetide  by  night  and  by  day, 
Who  never  docs  any  thing  wrong  in  her  life, 
Except  when  permitted  to  have  her  own  way." 

Mr.  President,  and  fellow-members  of  the  His 
torical  Society :  I  cculd  employ  your  time  for  some 
hours  longer  upon  this  interesting  theme,  but  the 
hour  allotted  to  me  has  expired,  and  I  must  close 
with  a  brief  personal  sketch  of  the  subject  of  this 
memorial 

Mr.  Ilaileck  was  of  medium  stature;  his  real 
height  was  probably  five  feet  nine  inches,  although  a 
slight  inclination  of  the  body  forward,  in  what  might 
be  called  a  deferential  attitude,  made  him  appear  less 
tall  than  he  really  was.  He  was  always  scrupulously 


27 

neat  in  his  dress  and  person — never  over-dressed — and 
his  manners  were  equally  plain  and  unpretending. 
He  was  totally  devoid  of  affectation,  and  although  shy 
of  strangers,  at  times,  yet  this  quality,  springing  as  it 
did  from  an  innate  modesty,  united  with  the  most 
perfect  good-breeding,  seemed  rather  to  set  him  oft 
among  strangers,  and  make  them  feel  more  at  home 
in  his  society  than  if  he  had  been  over-courteous  or 
over-familiar.  I  remember,  upon  one  occasion,  when 
I  had  introduced  him  to  a  very  talkative  publisher, 
who  said, "  Have  I,  at  last,  the  pleasure  of  taking  the 
great  Mr.  Halleck  by  the  hand?  an  honor  I  have 
coveted  ever  since  I  was  a  boy,  and  got  his  poems  by 
heart,"  and  more  of  that  sort, — that  Halleck  became 
suddenly  very  deaf,  put  his  hand  to  his  ear  to  try  to 
make  out  what  was  said  to  him,  and  with  a  sad,  puzzled 
expression  on  his  face,  shook  his  head  as  if  it  said,  Dear 
me,  I  can't  hear  a  word  of  all  this,  what  a  pity  !  and 
yet  all  this  was  done  in  such  a  kindly,  gentlemanly 
way,  that  it  gave  no  offence  to  the  person  addressing 
him.  He  was  always  scrupulously  correct  in  hLs  deal, 
ings,  no  matter  how  trifling,  and  practised  the  greatest 
economy,  so  as  to  preserve  his  independence.  He 
often  used  to  refer  to  the  fact  that  Bums,  poor  as  he 
was,  and  a  poet  to  boot,  died  without  owing  any  oue 
a  single  penny. 

u  Through  care  ami  pain,  and  want  and  voe, 
With  wound*  that  only  death  can  heal— 
Torture*-— the  poor,  alone,  can  know. 
The  proud,  alone,  can  Ted, 

He  kept  hi*  honest  r  and  truth, 

II u  independent  tongue  and  pen. 
And  moved  in  manhood,  as  in  youth, 

Pride  of  hi*  fellow-mcn.- 


28  Fm&RERys  HALLECK. 

In  fact,  Halleck's  admiration  of  Bums,  as  a  poet, 
was  second  only  to  his  admiration  of  him  as  a  man. 

There  was  always  a  faint  touch  of  punctilious  po 
liteness  lingering  about  Ilalleck,  such  as  we  might 
imasnne  characterized  the  old  French  nott&te  in 

o 

their  exile,  and  this  accompanied  with  a  never-fail 
ing  loHltommit)  a  gentleness  of  manner,  that  even  in 
his  old  age  made  women  lib  friends  and  children 
his  companions.  But  the  real  characteristics  of  our 
dear  friend  apj>eared,  when  he  was  talking  with  some 
congenial  companion  about  the  great  poets  he  loved, 
with  all  the  fervor  of  his  soul.  Then  the  doinous 
head  would  seem  to  have  gathered  electric  fire 
from  the  words  that  poured  from  his  heart,  the 
branching  veins  on  his  temples  would  suddenly 
shoot  out,  and  swell,  and  enlarge.  Then  his  blue 
eyes  would  dart  out  gleams  of  intellectual  light, 
the  projecting  lower  jaw  would  tremble  with  pas 
sion,  the  lips  would  quiver,  one  hand  would  pound 
another  with  expressive  vehemence,  and  the  foot,  not 
less  expressive,  would  respond,  and  when  the  heroic 
sentiment  was  reached,  or  pathos  had  carried  all  be 
fore  it,  then  the  voice  would  falter,  the  eyes  fill,  and 
you  felt  that  the  spell  of  living  geniua  was  upon  you. 
It  has  been  often  said,  that  Ilalleck'*  poems  ex 
hibit  great  artifice  in  their  construction,  and  show  the 
clearness  and  polish  of  laborious  composition.  This  is 
partly  true,  but  scarcely  any  pot»t  knew  better  than 
lie  how  to  reach  the  highest  art  of  all — the  art  of 
concealing  art.  Like  tho  Sculptor  in  Schiller's  poem 
of  tho  Ideal  and  the  Actual,  lie  knew  how  to  use  his 
implements. 


A  MEMORIAL.  29 

«  When  through  dead  MOM  to  breath*  a  mri  •fUgirt. 
With  the  dull  marble  to  unite 

The  kindling  geulu*,  some  great  sculptor  glow* ; 
Behold  him  •training;  every  nerve  intent. 
Behold  how,  oVr  the  subject-element. 

The  stately  thought  with  march  laborious  goes! 
For  never,  MVC  to  toil  untiling,  rpoke 

The  un»  tiling  Truth  from  her  mjrteriou*  well— 
The  statue  only  to  the  chisel'*  stroke, 

Wake*  from  it*  marble  cell. 

M  But  onward,  to  the  sphere  of  beauty,— go 
Onward,  O  Child  of  Art!  and,  lo, 

Out  of  the  matter  which  thy  pain*  control 
The  statue  springs !  not  as  with  labor  wrung. 
From  the  hard  block,  but  as  from  nothing  sprung. 

Airy  and  light— the  offspring  of  the  soul ! 
The  pangs,  the  care*,  the  weary  toil*  it  cost. 

Leave  not  a  trace  when  once  the  work  is  done  '• 
• .-.       The  artut's  human  frailt y  merged  and  lost, 

In  Art**  great  victory  wou !  " 

The  lost  poem  of  any  lengtli  that  Halleek  wrote 
was  entitled  Young  America,  a  war-lyric,  published 
in  the  u  New  York  Ledger,"  in  18G4.  It  is  a  spirited 
production,  with  many  very  beautiful  lines,  whose 
music  recalls  some  of  liis  earliest  and  best  verses. 

I  could  interpolate  hero  many  characteristic  anec 
dotes  of  Ilalleck,  but  time  warns  me  that  I  must  con 
clude.  In  one  of  the  last  letters  I  received  from  him, he 
spoke  of  Mr.  James  II.  Ilackett,  and  proposed  coming 
to  the  city  especially  to  see  him,  and  have  a  chat  with 
him.  It  was  prej>osed  by  Mr.  Ilackett  to  invite 
Mr.  Ilullcck,  Mr.  Verplanck,  and  one  or  two  other 
old  friends  to  meet  together,  and  have  a  good  old- 
fashioned  dinner.  Hallcck  used  to  say, u  Pretty  much 
all  my  old  friends  are  gone— except  Bryant,  Verplanck, 
and  myself, — we  are  the  last  of  the  cocked  hats."  But 


30  Fin-QREBKB  UALLECK. 


the  projected  dinner  was  unhappily  interrupted  by 
the  decease  of  the  poet,  in  whose  honor  it  was  in 
tended  to  be  given.  I  met  Mr.  Hackett  and  MR 
Verplanck,  and  agreed  upon  the  day  when  I  was  to 
notify  Ilalleck  —  and  an  hour  after  that  meeting,  I 
hoard  the  t*ad  newt*  of  liU  death. 

I  now  have  the  honor  to  introduce  Mr.  Duyckinck, 
the  Chairman  of  th'w  Committee,  who  will  read  the 
resolution*  hu  han  prepared. 

Mr.  Di'vcKiNX'K  theitMijKm  Hubimtted  tho  follow 
ing  resolutions,  which  were  adopted  unanimously  : 

j;<Kjlr«1.  That  the  Member*  of  tlilt  Society.  In  common  with  their 
fcltawTitijecn*  and  country  men,  cxproM  tho  ikjmw  of  the  lo»«  which 
America  ha*  mintalned  In  tho  dvath  of  KITX-CIM:KNR  II  AM  r.<  K. 

7»*«W*v7,  That  while  knowing  tho  author  and  paying  that  tribute  of 
heartfelt  admiration  of  hi*  genii;*  nn  a  poet,  which  had  been  ever  AC* 
corded  by  all  aciiuaint««l  with  !»U  writing,  wo  cherUh  the  recollection 
of  hU  |>crsonal  worth  and  amiability  of  character,  the  charm  of  hif  en* 
livened  ronvcreation,  and  tho  grace  which  hU  pretence  imi>nrtcd  to 
-Kvnl  life. 

7A*./rr</,  Tliul  Wy.  Cri.i.KX  HIIYANT,  the  Hfe-lonK  friend  of  the  poet, 
be  Invittsl  to  prepare  n  mcmorinl  pa|>cr  on  the  life  and  |{i*niu«  of  Kit/.- 
(Jrcone  HnlUsk,  to  he  reiul  before  thin  Hoclvty  at  a  »pcvlitl  meeting,  to 
be  held  fur  that  jmrj>o*v. 

J!<».ilrrJ,  Thnt  wo  e\pre»«  our  nympathy  with  the  mirvlvinif  nMor 
of  our  dcccattd  friend,  In  the  aftllotion  which  »ho  ban  »ui>t«lned  In  being 
deprived  of  her  beloved  brother  and  companion  of  many  year*. 

HtuJrtJ,  Thnt  a  ci-rtified  copy  of  those  Itcaolutlona  b«  communU 
cated  to  MUn  Halleek. 

Previously  to  offering  the  resolutions,  Mr.  Duyck- 
inck  presented  the  following  communication  relating 
to  Mr.  Ilalleck,  which  he  had  received,  as  Chairman 
of  the  Committee,  from  Mr.  Frederic  de  Peyster. 


A  MEMORIAL.  31 

76  UnraaiTT  PLACE,  Jim  wry  T,  1868. 
Erarr  X  DCTCKDTCK,  ESQ. 

Mr  DBA*  SIR,—  Hie  anxieties  of  *  tick-room  bar*  prevented  my 
attempting  a  thoughtful  description  of  the  traits  of  character  which  dis 
tinguished  the  late  FITZ-GBEEXE  UALLECK,  as  gathered  from  his  works 
and  HIT  personal  acquaintance  with  him. 

I  well  remember  when  tho  Croaltn  first  appeared.  Xew  York  was 
then  of  limited  extent  in  compnriiton  with  iu  present  expansion.  It* 
social  circle  wn«  mmill  Indeed  in  contrant  with  1(4  prcftctit  lUbeMiko 
popnl'itl./n,  nfar  'Mho  roiifoiind'iin'  of  language." 

Ho  at  onre  took  tho  town  by  utorm,  by  hU  »pitrkling  wit,  gvnlal 
humor,  pruccful  and  cu-y  vvmiiirittiun,  Miiicitt  satire,  and  happy  alia- 
nloii*.  Thou  rame  Ihel'ovt's  "Fanny  ;**  whvti  hU  jiopiilarity  Uvuue 
uiit>oiin<U<d,  i  n.1,  with  nn  alteration  or  two,  a  lino  t»f  hi«  own  U%t  d«- 
M-rlla-*  tlif  ^vueral  »v«illnu-nt  - 

«  Nun*  ium*4  klra  tut  to  |*»W  * 

In  IHICCCM  on  followed  hin  other  and  equally  tnccc*»ful  publications. 
The  jNipul!.r  feeling  roite  to  ontliu»imim,  and  has  never  nuUl  Ie«l.  He  b 
one  of  tho  (Mutt  riiiui  tuen  of  our  country,  with  a  name  and  f»me  Im- 


Others  will  analyze  and  |x>rtray  the  rharacteri»tio  feature*  of  the 
Poet*s  mind,  and  of  his  justly-earned  and  wcll-t>u«taincd  celebrity  fur* 
nUh  a  faithful  and  merited  delineation. 

I  POMI  from  the  well-remembered  §c?  ne*  of  my  youth,  and  of  HAL- 
I.BCK  in  the  airoitiliint,  to  tho  day*  when,  In  a  ri|»o  old  ago,  full  of  earth 
ly  honoris  he  ha»  dcik'eiuK-d  into  tho  tomb. 

The  dny  provlou*  to  hi*  death  ho  moved  about  a<  usual,  and  his 
step  nnd  hU  »|KKT|I  liulicntiMl  no  |>erevptiblo  chaiitf*. 

Ho  fvlt,  however,  a  roiiM-iuiimioMi  that  his  end  was  approaching; 
for  a  letter  now  before  mo  »tute*s  that  ere  he  retired  to  bed  on  that 
day,  he  obnervvd  to  hU  »Utcr  that  he  would  not  live  to  see  another  (tana 
away. 

The  hour  l«  not  stated  when  she  entered  his  room  after  he  had  so 
gono  to  his  bed  ;  but  from  the  circumttanco  that  upon  her  entering  he 
asked  for  an  article*  of  hit  dre*«,  which  he  had  placed  in  an  attyacvnt  chair, 
it  is  probublo  that  it  was  on  tho  ctituing  morning.  She  had  ju*t  turned 
to  hand  him  his  clothes,  when  he  fell  back  on  the  bed,  and,  when  she 
reached  him,  he  v.it  </«?</. 

Thus  departed  this  life,  this  distinguished  man,  whose  name  through 
out  our  land  is  as  familiar  as  "  a  household  word,"  and  whose  fame  is 
as  imperUhable  a<  his  works. 


32  FiTXrQREESB  HALLSCK. 

His  biography,  to  be  prepared  by  a  skilful  and  competent  pen,  will 
prove  a  fitting  monument  to  his  memory.  This  will  display  the  features 
of  a  mind  which  has  made  its  impress  on  the  nation  whose  son  he  was 

There  are  many  who  have  never  seen  a  Portrait  of  this  eminent 
poet,  as  he  appeared  in  hi*  mature  age;  and  it  is  pleasant  to  look  on  the 
features  of  such  a  man,  which  are  truthfully  and  happily  portrayed. 

A  portrait  of  UALLECK  by  Waldo  and  Jewctt,  well-known  artists  in 
their  day,  was  in  the  possession  of  Charles  Augustus  Davis,  recently 
deceased,  which  is  a  correct  representation  of  the  Poet,  as  he  appeared 
ootne  thirty  or  thirty-five  years  since.  Waldo  was  a  successful  painter 
in  this  branch  of  the  art ;  and  as  a  general  circumstance,  his  portraits 
were  life-like  likenesses.  Jewett  was  skilled  in  the  drapery  aud  minor 
details  of  the  picture. 

Mrs.  Davis  has  authorized  mo  to  present  this  Portrait  to  The  New 
York  Historical  Society,  and  in  her  name  I  now  present  the  same.  To 
my  eye,  it  brings  before  me  FITZ-GREEXK  HALLE*  K  in  h:«  best  days,  with 
that  expressive  look,  which,  like  a  letter  of  introduction,  makes  you  at 
once  acquainted  with  the  Poet. 

FliEDEKIC   DB  PCYSTKB. 


.        ! 


.. 


' 


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